The Return to Dead City
by KittyoftheDark
Summary: Two months after the Christmas getaway in the French Alps ended in horror America remains haunted by the voices and memories of Dead City. When he finds out Britain went back to the haunted mountain and never returned he goes back to where it all began to end it once and for all.
1. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: Once again I do not own the rights to Hetalia or any of it's characters. No one is intended to be offended by this fanfiction, I tried very hard to give dignity to every country's personification mentioned as well as keeping true to the original series. English translations for French sentences are in brackets directly after the sentence and footnote numbers are the same size as the rest of the text. Unfortunately I cannot change that here. Keep in mind I am not a French Major so the translations into English may not be exact but I tried very hard to make them close enough.  
This fanfiction is a continuation of "Dead City" which is also posted on this site, but can stand on it's own as well.

Chapter 30

I'm the kind of guy who likes his work and private life kept as separate as possible. To me the United States of America and Alfred F. Jones are two separate people, America is the work guy and Alfred is the home guy. I've been told time and time again that this isn't really possible, especially for a country, but I'm a dreamer. You know what, scratch that. I'm not a dreamer, I'm goal oriented!

I like to see things in twos. Everything has a good side and a bad side, up and down, left and right, dark and light, life and death, and so on. It sounds like I'm a rigid person but I'm really not. See my brother was always the logical one, you know, the good with numbers guy. He was the quiet type who liked to keep things in order, remembers dates, always thought with his head and seemed to painfully plan everything out in detail. We may be twins but our personalities are nothing alike.

That isn't me. I always thought with my heart, what felt right, and my gut instinct. I'm the creative extrovert. I was never the type to remember dates although people have been trying to get me to nail that habit into me since I was a kid. Why hold on to the sad and horrible memories that you can't change? Why let them bother you forever? I know I don't want to, so I bury them in the back of my mind and focus on the happy times. I can tell when the mood is bad, sad, depressing, and sensitive even but I choose to ignore it. I think the term is defense mechanism.

Sure I can be an emotional person but keep in mind that emotional and sensitive are two different things. I'm no crier. But I admit I don't really share things about myself at work, you know the deep down things. I have no problem talking to people about almost anything, sharing thoughts and ideas, talking about what's new and such but I don't like to share my personal thoughts and feelings very much. I was never a touchy feely person. That happens when you were the kid who grew up too fast.

As strong and resilient as you are you can't help but have some things continue to bother you. As for me I always wanted to know who my parents were. My brother wasn't as troubled with it but I think it's a thing every adopted kid goes through at some point in their lives. With me it's an ongoing nagging voice in the back of my head that has always bothered me.

When I was little I loved it when Britain came to visit. He was so fun to be around and he taught me a lot. I especially loved the stories he shared, the Shakespearian plays and the legend of Robin Hood for example. But before you knew it he had to leave again. He was a busy guy, especially around that time, and had lots on his plate. I ended up alone again, which scared me. It was such a big place to be in when you were alone and 3 feet high.

As hard as it is to admit I was quite happy with Britain for awhile, we fought when I got older but I don't hate him. I just wanted to know my past; I mean most countries know about their heritage right? I had to start from scratch without much of a heritage to work off of.

So my first goal was to become my own person, to find out who I was and wanted to be. Since I didn't know who my parents were I had to start with a blank piece of paper. I read stories about Rome and it's embarrassing to admit at first but I sort of looked up to him1. That's when I found out what I wanted to become. I wanted to be a powerful fearsome country like him. One that others wouldn't want to tangle with; independent, strong, and ready for a fight if one arises. I ended up becoming who I am today, the hero that everyone remembers. I have my own way of doing things, I'm certainly independent, and I'm pretty strong but there is room for improvement.

Don't get me wrong I have a family to back me up, sure we argue but find one out there that doesn't. In times of a crisis they're right there to help as fast as I am willing to do the same for them. I have achieved a lot of my personal goals, becoming my own person, encourage democracy, hell I even have my sights on space lately, and I have a family who is there when I need them. Unfortunately I still haven't found out about my birth parents. I know little about my mother. She died very soon after my brother and I were born.

I put that on the back burner for awhile for more pressing issues, America's issues are more important than Alfred's but you can't ignore them completely. Some recent crisis's arose that brought this back to my mind. My brother says we're better off not knowing and we're fine the way we are but I don't agree. He's my only blood relative and I almost lost him not too long ago that terrified me more than I let people believe. After everything that happened and all the secrets and lies we find out over time he has always been that constant in my life. Well… there is another, but there is a good chance I could lose her too.

1Ancient Rome was an influence during the formation of the United States of America. Influence can be seen in political structure, to architecture, and even the adoption of the Eagle as a national symbol.


	2. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The one thing I had that Rome didn't was guns. I liked guns and I worked on my aim for defense at first but later for offence when I fought in wars. War's like the battle for independence and the war of 1812…. but I don't want to talk about them. I had one of the best sniper shots in the army, I wasn't the best but I was up there and proud of it. I was so focused on becoming a strong country so I wouldn't be scared to be alone anymore that I ended up growing up too fast. I focused on work 100% of the time, all the politics and making my own history took over my personal life. It didn't bother me back then really, I thought that's what big countries did, they went at it full force, no bullshit, and took control like a hero.

It might be hard to picture me as a work-a-holic but I was right up until the Civil War. I remember I was frequently ill though out it and sometimes it got bad enough I felt like I was fading away, but I wouldn't have it. With Lincoln's1 help I could fix this; admittingly he was one of my favorite bosses. It was during those terrifying years that I got some great advice from a close friend of mine that really made me think. It's a story I have told very few people but I learned a lot from him. It's funny but I only knew for 12 hours but I remember him so well.

It was the evening of July 19th, 1864. I know that date by heart oddly enough. I was in a fog and had no idea where I was or how I got there. This war was tearing me apart. All I really remember was wandering through the trees somewhere in the south trying to run away from something and refused to let go of my gun. Exhausted and ready to scream I looked ahead of me and saw a young man sitting outside of a cabin in the distance. He was rather young, and was sitting in front of a bond fire with a rifle resting on the ground next to him. It took him a minute but he saw me in the distance and didn't think twice to come to my aid. He was no older than 18 and had very friendly brown eyes, "Oh lord are you alright? Who are you? Where are you from?"

I wasn't feeling well at all and started to forget who I was. Deeply confused the only thing I could think of was my first name, "….My name is Alfred."

"You from the North or South?"

"…Can't it be both?"

He felt my forehead and led me over to his cabin, "You don't look very hot, come sit down." He had a southern accent and was very friendly. He was quite skinny but not underfed, had very short curly hair, and hands marked with scars and calluses from years of hard work. Combined with his dark complexion it was obvious that this guy was a slave at some point in his life. He didn't know anything about me and welcomed me to join him without thinking twice, "My name is John Fino, born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Sir. I'm a proud member of the Confederate Army. Here have a seat." He led me to two hay bales that sat before the raging bonfire. The cabin behind him wasn't very big and was rather run down, looked to me like this guy didn't have much money at all.

"You fight for the Confederacy?"

"That's right; I'm a laborer there though I really wish I was a gunman2. I'm a free man and Georgia is all I know. I love this land and I'll fight for it. This is my place, make yourself at home. It ain't much but I'm proud of it."

"You live here?" I smiled a little and eyed the cabin behind us that had handmade curtains hanging in the windows and wild daisies cascading before it.

"I sure do! Built it myself." He sat down next to me and studied me a little, "You're not wearing a uniform at all…. you're not trying to run from the war are you?"

"I…. yeah…. I guess I am." As I looked down I saw worn out dress pants, a torn shirt, and my hands were starting to look translucent.

"Well now that ain't right. Must be the sickness that's driven you away, if you ask me you look over worked."

"…Over worked…" I thought real hard trying to remember anything, but something did strike a memory, "That's right… I've been trying to fix this every day…. for so long." I gasped and looked into the fire, "But I can't fix it…"

"Sure you can! A single person has done many amazing things to change the world, you just can't be all gung-ho all the time otherwise you'll burn yourself out."

"But I'm not feeling well anymore…"

"Well if you ask me that's all the better reason to take a step back from it all. You are a work-a-holic and need a day off."

"I'm not like that, I can't take days off." I sighed and stared into the fire still trying to remember.

"Sure you can, everyone does. Now tell me Mr. Alfred, what do you like to do on your spare time?"

"I don't know… I never really had spare time before. You say you wished you were a gunman?"

"Oh yes, I've practiced many times and I have my own guns, but… well sounds like I'm staying as a laborer."

"Well how about we practice our shot?"

"You really don't mind helping me out? I mean I wasn't always a free man."

"Race never bothered me before." I shrugged, "I've got a good shot myself, and if you're in the army it might come in handy later, right?"

"Then, let's go work on our aim for awhile. Get your mind off of things." He got up and bringing his rifle with him he wandered over to an empty field where several hay bales sat with targets on them, "I was just doing that this morning. I'm trying to work on my distance shots." There was something about him that really reminded me of someone, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He always seemed to have a smile on his face and was very optimistic. "I started using a different model a few days ago and I'm still working the kinks out. You ever used this kind before?"

He proudly let me take a closer look at his gun and I immediately knew what kind it was, "That's an Enfield rifle musket with a .577 cal. barrel I believe."

"You know your guns, Alfred." He nodded and aimed it at a target just over 500 yards away and took the shot only to barely miss the edge of it.

"No no, that gun is better used at closer range than that. You'll only hit anything beyond 500 yards with luck. Move in a bit closer and mind the wind…" I replied oddly feeling a bit better.

"How do you know so much about guns? You build 'em?"

"No… I was raised to be a fighter."

We walked about 100 yards closer to the target and he took the shot again, this time making it within an inch and a half of the bull's-eye, "Oh wow! That's much better. Thanks mister. Your gun looks different than mine."

I looked down as some things started to come back to me a little, "Yeah… it's a Whitworth rifle… it's bruised my eye a couple of times though." I raised the gun and took my aim. Each time I fired it I hit the bull's-eye only barely missing one of 7.

"Wow you are a bred fighter…"

"… I was alone a lot as a kid and I had to defend myself in wide open lands with wild beasts… I had to learn at an early age. I became very pretty good at it though. "

"So was I. I'm an orphan you know. I never met my parents; they probably work for a wealthy land owner somewhere. My master died and let us all free in his will so I ended up raising myself. I have no family and no ties to anyone. John Fino is his own man; I even caught my own rabbits for food and built this house of mine. You see, Mr. Alfred… the world is a lot like a silver dollar…" He pulled a confederate silver dollar from his pocket and flipped it into the air, "It's a special thing that you have to earn. There's a good side and a bad side, up and down, wrong and right, and two sides to every fight. It's a simple balance of your business life and your personal life; too much of one thing makes everyone off balance. But most of all the world is truly special like a silver dollar because it can be spent in a snap; just make sure you know what you're spending it on because it can be gone before you know it. This is the first coin I ever earned, and it's very special to me. You feeling better now?"

I was born a fighter… I know who I am, and I'm not letting this tear me apart when I'm so young. I have so much more I want to do in life. There are still so many people who believe in me, I should not forget to do that too. Taking a step back helped more than I ever thought it would. Still feeling foggy and ill I looked to him with a smile, "Of course. I know where I'm going and what I have to do."

"Well just to make sure you can stay here for the night. I'm leaving in the morning for battle though, I like to spend time at home when I can but duty calls right?" He put the coin back in his shirt pocket practiced some shots again while he spoke, "Don't leave yet, you're my first real friend."

We stayed up a little longer and talked by the bonfire until he fell asleep sitting up. I spent the night watching the fire sparks and really getting some time to think. For once I had a day to take some time out to be myself, and it really helped me. I spent so much time working on being America that I forgot that I was also Alfred. Being torn apart made me realize that I'm still human after all… not as super powered as much as I'd like to think. Nobody had to know that though.

John was just a regular kid from Atlanta but he was a good friend of mine. I wished I could have spent more time with him. He came from such harsh beginnings and managed to pull himself out of it and find the kind of life he was happy with. He knew exactly what he wanted out of life and I admired that, I truly did. He was a smart kid and could have done amazing things if he was given more of an opportunity. You take what you're given in life and if you have any leftovers that you don't need give it to someone who doesn't have enough.

The next day was the Battle of Peachtree Creek and he was sent off to war. I thanked him for his time and promised that we'd see each other again one day. He wanted me to give him more shooting tips. When I returned to Washington I made sure to inquire about what happened to my friend John Fino, born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. All I got back was his 1846 silver dollar. It had a shrapnel hole in the edge of it, right on the edge of the Eagle's wing. He spent his dollar fighting for land he loved. I don't tell many people that story, but oddly enough I see that memory as a happy one. Probably because I'm sure John knew he wasn't going to make it. Since then I carried that coin around with me in memory of my old friend who had no idea who I was and to keep in mind that sometimes life is like a silver dollar. What was I going to spend mine on?

1 Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the United States. In office March 4th 1861 – April 15th 1865

2 The history of African Americans in the American Civil War is marked by 186,097 (7,122 officers, 178,975 enlisted) African Americans comprising 163 units who served in the Union Army during the Civil War, and many more African Americans who served in the Union Navy. Both free African Americans and runaway slaves joined the fight. On the Confederate side, both free and slave blacks were used for labor, but the issue of whether to arm them, and under what terms, became a major source of debate, and no significant numbers were ever raised or recruited


	3. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The whole thing was complicated but basically to get support against the communist allies I had to help France suppress a revolution in the east. Politics can be so confusing sometimes. I understand it fine but explaining it the way it was told to me is where I hit a road block. But do you know what? I don't want to talk about the war anymore. Not today, nope. It's been on my mind everyday for the past decade and it's been nothing but trouble at home and here in Saigon. Very few support me on both sides but in my heart I feel like I'm doing the right thing.

February 1st 1961, I was sitting at a desk inside South Vietnam's house in Saigon scanning over some maps and deep in thought. The room was dark except for a few candles because she didn't want to bring attention to the place. I was trying to think of ideas for the ongoing war but my mind was clouded and I couldn't think straight. Instead I leaned over the desk with a heavy sigh and started to spin my lucky silver dollar over and over again. "Come on, man, think…" I muttered out loud as I flipped the coin into the air then caught it in my gloved hand. By brain needs a break; I need closure of some kind. It wasn't exactly helping that South Vietnam was in the next room going through a mountain of books looking for something. I couldn't stop thinking about her or what happened two months ago in the French Alps.

"It's not here either…" She mumbled to herself angry and dropped another book on the floor. Thud!

France, England, Canada and I almost got killed out there in an avalanche that I'm still positive that dark forces started. That house full of frozen mummies we found…. Dead City was it? I keep dreaming of that house in my nightmares and sometimes I even hear voices in my head, just like the ones I heard back there.

"It's not here either…." Thud!

That same cackling voice that kept whispering stuff to us… it sounded like an older man. I swear I heard him talking to me but there's never anyone around.

Thud!

What do they want with me? Unconsciously I picked up a pen and started drawing on the map without looking at it.  
Thud!

Do the others hear it too?

Thud!

Or did that trip drive me crazy?

Thud!

I snapped out of my day dream when the candle in front of me started to flicker rapidly. My silver dollar was on the other side of the room, and with a pen still tightly clenched in my fist the name "Ville Morte" was written in very heavy ink all over the maps.

Thud!

"That's it; we have got to get out of the house more often!" I got up and went to the next room to find South Vietnam knee deep in books and getting more and more frustrated.

"I hate losing things…" She sighed flipping through the pages of yet another book.

"What did you lose?"

"Something France gave me awhile ago… When I was younger he tried to teach me French and he gave me sheets of paper with some words on them but now they're gone!" 1

I knew exactly why she was so upset and that wasn't the entire reason. It just wasn't helping matters. I hugged her from behind in an attempt to make her feel better, still finding it cute how short she was compared to me. "You know what we're going to do? Starting tonight we're taking a few days off."

"…Off? From what?"

"From the war. We need some time just for us… you and me and nothing else."

"…. It's a nice thought but you just can't take time off a war… I'm needed here, I can't ignore it!"

"Look…" I grabbed her wrist and encouraged her to sit down with me on the bed, "This really reminds me of the Civil War. It was the same thing, a country divided into the North and the South. During that war I did nothing but focus on it, every day, awake or asleep. I was determined to do something about it, and in turn it almost drove me mad. You can't be hyper focused on something that will last so long; your brain can't take it. It's not good for you; I mean I almost forgot to eat. Yes it's terrible, yes it's a tragedy that so many people other than me and you are involved and yes the politics are confusing and chaotic, but that's more of a reason than ever to take a break from it. Nothing bad will happen if you take a day or two to yourself, any more than that would be seen as a bad thing. They depend on you, and you need to be strong and healthy. I need you to be strong and healthy. First place we need to start is by sleeping." I pointed at her with a slight smirk trying anything to get her to not look so down, "You're not sleeping anymore, I've been paying attention."

"I can't sleep…. my mind keeps racing and certain things are keeping me awake."

"And that is why we're taking a day or two off. You're too stressed out. Tonight we're nobody but Alfred F. Jones and Nguyen Nhi2, just two regular people with regular problems."

"I can't forget who I am."

"We're not. I for one am very proud of who I am, but we're just taking a break." I quickly kissed her and was thrilled she started to chuckle, a sound I haven't heard in a long time.

"Silly man…." She leaned her head against my shoulder and seemed to like the idea, "It's a nice thought."

"So are you going to try to sleep? I'll try with you."

"… I probably should. I'll clean these books up tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll think of what to do in the morning."

1 South Vietnam's origins can be traced to the French colony of Cochinchina, which consisted of the southern third of Vietnam and was a subdivision of French Indochina.

2 The name Nhi was inspired by the Trung Sisters, Trung Trac and Trung Nhi, who rebelled against Chinese rule for three years and are regarded as national heroines of Vietnam.


	4. Chapter 33

Chapter 33.

I was exhausted from a passionate evening but was still awake and just like South Vietnam my mind was racing like a heard of wild horses. We huddled under the blankets together later that night; she was under my arm and fast asleep facing me. For once she was taking my advice to cool it down a bit. I didn't tell her but I already had a plan. I wanted her to go to Washington with me, and in the middle of the night we'd go for a walk to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool where I'd have a surprise for her. I've been planning a surprise for the past few months and she's always turned down the idea of a day or two off. She won't regret it I can tell you that.

With a light moan she huddled closer and fell back asleep. I couldn't help but smile at that. I remember the first time we met like it was yesterday. It was the first time I came to Saigon. I had the thought in the back of my mind that this would be an in and out job. I was good at my job so it shouldn't take long, right? However once I got there and experienced it I learned that I was dead wrong. I came to help France suppress a revolution, and the first thing I wanted to do was meet South Vietnam for myself. I met North Vietnam a few times but it's been awhile and people can change quickly over time.

While I was exploring the city I found myself outside of Notre Dame Cathedral in Saigon, a massive church that loomed over its gardens with an antique beauty and serenity1. I always had a thing for architecture and was just blown away by it. That was until I heard something that matched its beauty.

Sitting in the garden nearby was a young local in a pale yellow áo dài who was calmly singing with a voice of a nightingale. Not wanting to interrupt I slowly approached her as every note she sung seemed to hit me right in the heart. She looked to be around my age, probably a bit younger, and had long hair that almost reached her lower back that was tied in a braid. I couldn't help myself at this point and I ended up kneeling right next to her as she tended to some flowers continuing to sing until she finished.

She said something in Vietnamese but back then I didn't understand a word of it, so seeing the cluelessness on my face she spoke again in English, "You have a lot of guts getting so close to someone you don't know."

"Well you have such a beautiful voice, I couldn't help it really."

"…You must be an American soldier. By the looks of your jacket I say air force." She continued and looked at me with honey eyes so dark I could barely see the lenses. Being able to speak English as well as she did meant she was well educated.

"Yeah sort of"

"Do they teach you manners in America? You haven't introduced yourself yet."

"I don't know, you haven't thanked me for the complement either."

She looked away and continued to pull weeds from around one of the flowers and replied with a quieter voice, "Thank you." I didn't move away from her and continued watching what she was doing. I couldn't tell if that made her annoyed or she didn't mind. She was a hard one to read. After a minute she spoke up again without diverting her gaze, "Do you mind fighting a war while you're still so young?"

That was a question I had to think about for a moment, "…Why, how old do you think I am?"

"You look to be only 18. You still have your whole life ahead of you."

"Not if you were raised fighting. What if fighting is all you know?" She didn't respond to that as if she agreed with me but didn't want to admit it, "You're not a soldier too are you?"

"You think because I'm a woman that I'm not a solider?"

"Not exactly"

"I'll have you know that I'm a skilled fighter and I'm as strong as any man. In fact I've beaten quite a few in battles before."

"It almost sounds like you want to challenge me." I laughed a little in reply.

"I'm just tired of people thinking I can't defend myself and I'm just a tiny frail woman."

"Oh I'm sure you are. I'm tired of people thinking I'm just a young kid."

At that moment we just looked at each other silently. That's when I figured out that she liked a challenge, someone who wasn't afraid or shy. That was me in spades.

It was strange but the first second I heard her voice and laid my eyes on her I knew that I loved her. My heart just jumped out of my chest, looked me in the eye, shook me and said "That's it, she's the one". The other thing I knew for sure was that I liked a challenge too. I could never tell what she was thinking and a part of me loved that kind of spontaneity. We continued to talk, and she told me some of the history of the city. Why there was French Church in Saigon, and a bit about herself. She reminded me of a tiger, a beautiful creature on the outside that was majestic, graceful, was quite a sight to the eyes and a rare find. On the inside she was a trained fighter, a tomboy who wasn't afraid to attack or show what she was made of and someone who should be taken seriously and not under estimated. If I made her angry enough she would probably give me a good licking. At one point I managed to make her laugh which was a personal victory for me.

Unfortunately I was running out of time and was due to meet someone very soon. If I could get her phone number I would be over the moon.

"I'm sorry, but I have to run. Would I be able to see you again? I'm going to be in town for a bit."

"That's alright, I have to go anyways. I'm also meeting someone and… I would like that very much."

Smiling for ear to ear I stood up still on my knees and outstretched my hand to her for a handshake, "Oh by the way, I'm America."

Her eyes widened a little at that and weakly shook my hand unused to the gesture, "Pleased to meet you…. I'm South Vietnam."

That was something I couldn't believe. Remaining still with a blank expression it took me a moment to think again, "… You're the one I have to go meet."

With another light chuckle she was very entertained with the realization, "It seems so."

She was the one I was here for, a country just like me. We met later and discussed many things about the war, and it was then I was glad I agreed to help, although I admit at first I wasn't too thrilled about the idea initially. We commonly met on business grounds but I couldn't help but remember that first meeting. I knew I loved her before I knew who she was. I would do anything for her and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. There was always that voice in my head that said it wasn't going to happen and I was fooling myself but this time I wasn't going to listen. I was going for it, I didn't care, and I wanted to be with her.

She wasn't an easy nut to crack. I made a move a couple of times but she turned me down for work instead. Over time I made more and more of a dent, I was always a persistent guy. Over time I learned that she loved me back, it took her awhile to admit it but it turned out that she loved me as much as I did back. We worked together a lot obviously but outside of the sights of others we got closer and closer. We even started dating in secret. Nobody knew about it but us, not even our bosses, nobody did. It was sort of a forbidden love thing and there would be hell if anyone found out on either side. We made time for each other even if it was a quick half hour in a locked bathroom in between meetings.

I remember she said that "my boyish charm" tricked her into it. It's the eyes, nobody can resist them. Since we started secretly dating South Vietnam tended to find mysterious pink roses left in spots wherever she went. Nobody but her had the slightest idea that they were from me because I'm not really known as the romantic type. It's that rare feeling of wanting to spend the rest of my life with her. That is probably impossible but I've done amazing things before, right?

1 Notre Dame Cathedral was built between 1877 and 1883 and is set in the heart of Ho Chi Minh City's (Saigon) Government quarter.


	5. Chapter 34

Chapter 34.

It was early in the morning. So early the dawn was yet to rise and the stars were still shining brightly outside. I didn't dare look at the clock; I've been awake too long to not want to know yet. I remained quiet and alone with my thoughts while she slept in my arms. Maybe some time off was all we needed. A fresh start so she could finally relax and get the rest she needs. It would be great to have a day or two to just work on our personal lives. Juggling can be tough work.

"Mmmm…." She stretched slowly waking up, "Chào buổi sáng." ("Good morning")

"Did I wake you up?"

"Không…" ("No…") She struggled a little to turn over and brushed the bangs out of my face, "Why do you look so sullen?"

"Hmm? Me? Naw, just thinking about the war again."

"You're breaking your own rule, remember? Today is about us. Besides, you have a sibling you know what it's like fight with authority."

"Yeah but we're the same age and he wasn't authority … Britain and France were my older brothers."

"But you weren't at war with them, were you?"

"….Not with France." I left it at that and stretched myself leaving a bit of silence which left her wondering.

"Being at war with family can kill you inside… it leaves a mark that just won't go away. I mean remember how you felt?"

I didn't say anything back and continued to stare at the ceiling.

"You don't like thinking about the past do you?"

"I do, just not certain memories. I'd rather think about the happier times."

She sighed a little with a faint smirk and rested her head on my chest, "Happier times like…?"

I couldn't help but chuckle a little, it was a memory I almost forgot until Canada reminded me of it not too long ago, "Well when my brother and I were tiny we switched places a few times to confuse Britain. I got Canada in trouble more than once."

She tried not to laugh when I started chuckling over it, "That was mean! You don't do that anymore do you?"

"…Well actually yeah we do. Sometimes when I travel to Mexico City I switch places with him so I don't hear any trouble from Mexico. You know, for a quieter and more carefree trip?"1

"Oh. He doesn't switch places with you does he?"

"Yeah but you could tell if he did, trust me."

"…I doubt it."

"Every grain of sand is different, just like snowflakes."

"Yes but from a distance they all look the same." She lightly kissed me with that remark.

"My hair is shorter, and I talk louder than he does. Plus he has this birthmark on his hip that kind of looks like a tree."

She looked at me with a funny smirk on her face, "Oh? Do you have a birthmark?"

"….Yeah, but you'll just have to find it."

"Challenge accepted…" She slid under the blankets and slowly crept her fingers down my chest, "Is it here?"

It wasn't easy to keep a straight face and admit that I was ticklish, it's an embarrassing trait to have when you're a grown man, "…..Nope…."

Her fingers moved to my hip as her long nails glided along the skin, which made it even harder not to laugh, "How about down here?"

"….Not even close." I replied quietly but when she got to my thigh I lost it, "Okay, okay it's a bird my lower back just stop doing that!" I exclaimed with a laugh in my voice.

"Why? Don't you don't like this game?"

"….Not too big of a fan really."

She peeked at me from under the covers and saw my cheeks getting red, "You are ticklish aren't you?" But before I could reply there was a knock at the door which South Vietnam didn't like one bit, "Gì bây giờ?! Nobody knows I'm home, can't I get the morning off?" ("What now?!")

"Don't worry I got it…" I quickly got dressed and headed for the door confused myself. The second I opened it I saw the unwelcome visitor and wasn't happy.

Standing on the other side was North Vietnam. She looked just like her sister but was older, wore a green áo dài, and was stricter. She was more of a work-a-holic and a definite big sister type. I always had a thing for North Vietnam but I'm smart enough to know that nothing would ever come from it. I'm pretty sure she hates me.

She had a paddle in one hand and looked very shocked to see that I answered the door instead of her sister. "I was going to ask where you were but I see I don't have to now." She spoke up in a calm demeanor, "I come in peace and just want to talk."

I wasn't sure why but I let her in, I guess I wanted to know what she had to say, "As long as it's just you. The second I find out there is an army outside your toast."

"Calm down, like I said I just want to talk. My boss doesn't know I'm here. I have questions and I want you to answer them." I made sure she saw me put a gun behind the back of my belt as she talked, "I do not want you involved any further. This is strictly between me and my sister, and you're only extending the issue. This is none of your business. It's a colonial war."

"You have no idea what's my business."

"This is a family issue… "

"I'm against communists, you know that. You're the one trying to conquer her and try to enforce it on her."2

"She was the one who rebelled in the first place. I can't control who my boss is or what they support." She slightly raised the blade of her paddle at me and watched my every move like a hawk, "But I told you, I'm not here to fight. She's my little sister and I'm all she knows. She's clearly rebelling just like you did against Britain. She's doing this to get a rise out of me, kids have done it before. But there is another reason you're doing this… I'm no fool."

"I already told you, to prevent a communist takeover; besides calling her a kid is insulting! I'm not a kid."

"Technically you are. I know you love her. I can tell…" She asked narrowing her eyes at me, "You've turned my sister into your puppet…"3 But before she could finish another paddle was thrown at her and hit her right in the shoulder.

"Có được ra khỏi nhà của tôi!" South Vietnam appeared beside me and was very angry, "Tôi đưa ra quyết định của riêng tôi." ("Get out of my house!" "I make my own decisions.")

North Vietnam had just about enough I could tell. Her attempts to get information failed, but it didn't settle well with me that she was suspicious. In a fit of frustration she threw her paddle right back at South Vietnam, randomly aiming for her abdomen, but I caught it at just a few inches away from it, "I think it's time for you to go." I replied sternly and threw it back at her while she was still holding on to it.

Without a seconds thought South Vietnam grabbed her sister's arm, knocked her feet out from under her and spun her onto the floor before aiming the blade of her paddle at her neck, "Why are you in my house threatening us?"

"I told you, I'm not here to fight. I just want to know why _he_ is still here!" North Vietnam repeated keeping her word. She could have turned this into a major brawl by now if she wanted to; she _was_ a skilled fighter after all.

"When I was little you told me family always came first, that no matter what happens you always place your family before work. Blood is thicker than water. You broke your own word when you placed work before me. This is my life and I've made my choice."

"You're choosing to let him hover over you and change centuries of tradition and even worse turning you into a capitalist? Wake up. You turned your back on me."

"I'm the only one still focused on family." She replied moving back and letting her get back up.

Keeping her word and not fighting any further she left it at that and lowered her weapon just as South Vietnam did, "I'm warning you back out and leave it up to us or else… you're the one making the problem worse." She warned me and headed for the door and walked past France without even acknowledging he was there.

The second France walked in and North Vietnam closed the door behind her South Vietnam leaned over a little bit and sighed, "Ugh…. What was she doing here?"

"…Trying to get me to talk. Don't worry if she did break into a fight I could have totally taken her." I tried reassuring her but I didn't think it really worked.

"Maybe you're right, maybe we should leave here for a bit. You know somewhere where we won't be interrupted all the time… ugh, I feel so sore this morning."

"Don't worry about it. I got it taken care of, honestly. Why don't you go for a hot bath?"

"That's… actually a good idea."

"Works for me, I'm going to have a quick chat with France here anyways." She gave me a funny look then continued to the bathroom leaving me alone with France who stood by the door silently. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"Did I come at a bad time?"

"Oh no, don't worry about it. Nothing we can't handle." I replied leaning against the wall and turning the safety back on my Glock 45 and kept it on me just in case she came back.

"We have a bit of a problem actually…" He continued walking in and sat down on the sofa, "I need you to go back to the resort."

"Haha! That's really funny, what did you really come here for?"

"…. I need you to go back to the resort."

My heart fell the second I realized he wasn't joking, "….There is no force on this Earth that will make me go back there, man." I laid my hand down flat on a table and grabbed my gun by the barrel, "Here, watch this…." Slamming the handle down directly on my hand I didn't flinch or grimace at all before holding it back up again, "See? Nothing... I have no feeling at all in my hands and frankly I don't want to lose feeling anywhere else. The blisters are just starting to heal, I have skin grafts on three fingers and I am damn lucky I didn't lose any of them."

"Three more skiers went missing two weeks ago… after a long search party their bodies were found outside of where Villa Morte once stood…. They died from hypothermia."

"…..Ouch." I didn't really know what to say to that and carefully put my leather gloves back on.

"There's more…" France spoke up again in his serious tone, which was a tone I wasn't a fan of.

I sat down on the couch back not really wanting to hear anymore, "Oh god, now what?"

"Sources tell me that Britain went there a few days ago… I have not heard from him since."

Everything went silent for a moment, "What?! Are you sure? Why would he return?" I thought about it for a moment, "Wait… a few** days** ago?!"

"Yes. That's why I need your help."

"Have you told Canada yet?"

"You were there, you remember the whole accident. You know more about what happened than any of us do. He doesn't, he's useless now."

That didn't some like something France would say, but confused I let him continue, "Don't insult him like that."

"We're still being haunted, America. So far everyone who has been near that building has been affected."

"Everyone?"

"Italy and Germany both admitted to nightmares. Italy is too terrified to sleep and Japan didn't acknowledge it but I can tell something was up. Scotland called me yesterday and told me Britain went back to do some exorcism and hasn't been back since. Scotland wasn't there and he's fine. This place has too much blood on it; I want this to be taken care of for good."

Normally I'd stay far away from spiritual activity especially if it was haunting my nightmares but this time it's not just me. Britain is a madman for even thinking about going back. "….I'll do it. But this time I want weapons, food, a map, a compass, and a flashlight."

"Whatever you need."

"A few days ago…." I muttered out loud and got up to grab some stuff, "I have a Learjet 23 not too far from here; I can have someone fly us out to the resort with no questions asked. It's all I have at my disposal right now and I don't really know how to fly a jet too well."

"We can fly to Chamonix then helicopter from there. The resort doesn't have room for anything larger than a helicopter unfortunately."

"Alright, well give me a minute or two to grab some stuff…."

It wasn't a moment later when South Vietnam came back all dressed and drying her hair. Caught off guard she stared at me confused while I was packing, "What are you doing?"

"Something came up. Britain went missing; France wants me to go help him look for him…"

"Missing?! Where? When?"

"At the resort a day or two ago." I threw the bag over my shoulder and looked around for my coat.

"Wait a minute, this isn't the resort where you almost died was it?" She spoke up suddenly looking worried, "No no, you're not going back there!"

"Britain is missing and I'm with France, the longer this isn't taken care of the more other people are getting involved in it."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not!" Taking a deep breath I got up and started to think, "Okay… My new boss Kennedy4 wants to meet with us soon so how about you head to Washington and stay at my place to relax for awhile. I'll meet you there in a day or two once this all blows over."

"I am not going to sit on the sidelines while you go back to the place that almost killed you…"

"You can't come with us. We'll split in Chamonix, everything will be fine." I replied flipping my lucky silver dollar and shoved it into my pocket "Don't worry, nobody will know you're going to Washington so it'll be nice and quiet plus my new boss is a great guy, I think you'd like him."

"This conversation isn't over." She signed clearly hating the idea.

Whether she liked it or not she wasn't coming with me. If everyone who has been there has become paranoid insomniacs I was not letting her go, not my girlfriend. Nobody else in my family will get hurt by these…. things.

1 When traveling abroad some Americans are noted to pin a maple leaf or Canadian flag somewhere on their luggage to receive friendlier service.

2 The U.S. government viewed involvement in the Vietnam War as a way to prevent a communist takeover of South Vietnam as part of their wider strategy of containment.

3 The North Vietnamese government and Viet Cong viewed the conflict as a colonial war, fought initially against France, backed by the U.S., and later against South Vietnam, which it regarded as a U.S. puppet state.

4 John F. Kennedy, 35th President of the United States. In office January 20th 1961 – November 22nd 1963


	6. Chapter 35

Chapter 35.

I haven't told anybody this but I haven't been able to sleep either. I think in the past 5 days I've only gotten about 8 hours collectively. Every time I fall asleep it's either another horrible memory or a nightmare taunting me. It makes you avoid sleep but after awhile your body can't handle it and you start falling asleep anyways out of exhaustion.

Waiting nearby was a Learjet 23, a small 8 person jet, and South Vietnam and I managed to slip on it without being seen. Before I left I made sure to get an update with McNamara1 on the war just to be sure everything was taken care of. It wasn't the roomiest thing in the world and certainly not a place I'd like to spend 13 hours in but I kind of have to at this point.

It was only 6am when the jet took off for Chamonix, the sun was barely rising and I already felt sleepy again. My eyes were heavy and no matter how hard I tried I fell asleep in my chair. I was comfortable at first. It felt amazing to finally catch some Z's but in no time I suddenly felt stiff like my skin was made of ice. I was thrown back into another horrible memory, and one of the worst ones at that. I felt the horrible stabbing pain in my limbs and the awful churning of my starving stomach. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't walk straight, and I could barely keep my eyes open. There I was back in the hell that was the frozen mountains of the French Alps lost and nearly unable to go on. Every step I took I felt the life slide away from my brother who lay broken, bruised and passed out in my arms. The winds only got worse and worse, but after a few minutes I couldn't feel the cold anymore. It was unusual but I swear I started to feel warmer. My skin was still blue and my hands still felt like they were shoved into a blender. As I slowly trudged through the snow I could hear those voices echoing around me, taunting me, teasing me, and begging me to give in.

"You're not going to make it. You're only making it worse…" It was the old man again, the one with the cackling French accent who sent me to that horror house to die.

"Go away… I can't hear you…" I muttered and remained focused on the snowy blur ahead of me.

I couldn't see him; just hear that voice like it was circling around me. It was never in the same spot twice, "You're only making the pain worse. He's as good as dead, I bet he's dead already…."

"You're lying… he's as tough as I am…" There was nothing around us but the whistling powerful winds, falling snow and miles upon miles of sparse forest that stretched through the Alps. Canada and I were alone out there but the voices would still not go away.

"You're not tough… Look at you; you're barely able to walk. You're letting some fluffy snow ruin you. How pathetic. You're a worthless child for continuing to live."

"I'm trying the best that I can…. Oh god my hands hurt!"

"You see? You're pathetic. Why don't you just give up? Nobody will miss you… they haven't even started a search party for you."

I stopped walking for a moment and tried to catch my breath, shaking badly and still focused forwards, "No…. they'll miss me. What… What about Britain?"

"Britain hated you the moment you rebelled."

"What about France?"

"France? He didn't even want you here, you're cramping his style."

"…. Canada… He'd miss me. I'm family…."

"He wishes you were dead. You heard him from before, he hates you."

I simply stood there for a moment trying hard not to believe that as truth. With a whimper of a breath I achingly moved forward. Britain and France might think I'm nothing but a pain in the ass, who knows… they might actually hate me. Canada? I never thought of the idea. We were pals. Then again as I thought about it, why wouldn't he? He mumbled in his sleep not too long ago that he was afraid of me. I looked down at him for a moment confused. He just lay in my arms as limp and pale as a corpse with his dusty blonde hair blowing around in the wind. No way, why would someone be afraid of me? I felt a tear in my eye and I did everything that I could to ignore him. If everyone in the world hated me, I could always count on one person who would be there with open arms, "…My g-girlfriend… the l-l-love of my l-life… she could never hate me. She's waiting for me right now, I know it." I gasped with chattering teeth.

"You mean the one who isn't celebrating Christmas with you? The most important family holiday in the year? She should have been the first person to start the search party. If you ask me, that love crumbled a long time ago."

"That's impossible!" I screamed at the empty space around me, "S-s-she's pregnant you bastard!"

"An accident, an unwelcome life, and a burden. That's why she doesn't love you… you ruined her life."

"No! Shut up… just shut up!" I yelled back and stopped walking again, nearly falling over.

"I know what you are. On the outside you're a tough and strong brute force but on the inside you are really a scared and sensitive little boy who cares too much about what other people think of him."

"Stop calling me a child!"

"I merely speak the truth. You are a burden, a waste of life and land. Everyone would be happier without you so stop making their lives miserable and just die. Do the one thing you're good at, dying."

"Oh god you're right…" I fell to my knees and placed the unconscious Canada in the snow before ripping my coat off and throwing it away as far as I could, "I'm worthless… I try so hard but I can't do anything right…."

"Exactly… end this miserable charade. Look at him, you failed. Nobody could have lived from hitting a tree while skiing that fast. There's no life in him and you're desecrating his corpse by dragging it around the snow. You failed so lie down and join him." I remained there unable to move anymore wearing only my dress shirt with the torn sleeves, jeans, and my brother's frozen gloves that I put on too late to do any good. The ski boots were the only thing warm I had on. I heard that voice one more time with an air of victory in his throat, "You are NO hero." He whispered in my ear before growing silent.

I couldn't take anymore. He was right… I was a fool for not seeing it before. I felt weak and fell to the snow lying next to my brother who I really thought was dead. I was a failure. Breathing heavier and heavier I knew that this was it. It almost felt like a heart attack, my arms were sore and my chest started to hurt. As I tossed and turned I swear I could hear that voice, following me like a plague, "True heroes know when to die."

I jolted awake and grabbed the arm rests to tight I nearly ripped them off. Still breathing heavy I looked around and found France in the seat in front of me and I assumed to be asleep. South Vietnam looked at me tired and confused, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah …. This is going to be a long trip." I sighed and leaned forward and buried my face into my gloves not looking forward to what I agreed to. I hate memories, I hate them. I just know this will mean having to go through every one, forcing me to relive pain I tried to bury. As I felt my heartbeat slow down I started to think more clearly, "Its 6 am…. Why aren't you asleep?"

She sat next to me with concerned eyes that had slight dark circles under them. It killed me to know she was so over worked. There she sat 7 months along and hid her bump under her winter coat. To make matters worse the tiny creature I called Peanut was underweight due to stress. I don't believe that any little one was an accident. They each deserve as much of a chance as the ones who were planned in advance and I'd do anything to help her gain weight. Nobody in the world knew about her but South Vietnam, France and I. If South Vietnam couldn't sleep and wasn't doing very well I was her only fighting chance for survival. "I can't sleep, not when you toss and turn like that."

"I've been doing that every night, just wake me up and I'll stop." Something hit me once she said that and I sat up right in shock, "Wait a minute, I'm the one stressing you out aren't I?"

"It's the war…" She replied softly and paused for a moment looking away from me, "But it doesn't help."

"Oh god! It's true… why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"You can't sleep, when you do you wake up screaming, and there's strange writing all over the house. Face it, you're being haunted. This all started when you came home from Paris two weeks ago. How can I relax when you're slowly losing your mind?" She looked back at me trying anything to get me to calm down.

It wasn't really going to help matters. This was all my fault; I'm the one causing all the trouble. How can I apologize to Peanut for that? "I'm not crazy, ok? You heard France; everyone who was at Dead City is being affected." I looked down and saw that she was holding my hand the whole time and I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel a thing because of the nerve damage. "That's why I'm here, to stop this from getting worse."

"Alfred!" She cried back to me determined. When she used my first name I knew she meant business, "You're not making any sense. _You_ are the one who is over worked. I'm worried about you! I know what you went through was horrible and you're not over it yet but you need to calm down, please, for me."

"Not making any sense? Alright, I'll try. I'm… I'm sorry. Maybe I'm just not over it yet."

She leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek, "Maybe that's all it is."

1 Robert McNamara, 8th United States Secretary of Defense from January 21st 1961 to February 29th 1968.


	7. Chapter 36

Chapter 36.

"Oh god, don't show me that. Why did I agree to this again?" I cringed a little in my seat and didn't want to look at the paperwork France had to show me. It was several hours later and the sun outside was brighter than I remembered it. South Vietnam was asleep in the chair next to me with her paddle leaning against her chair and France was in the spot in front of us flipping through some files. All he did was show me a photograph of the house and I immediately regretted agreeing this.

"There is no turning back. You need to see this…" He continued flipping his hair back more at ease than he was before. "I managed to pull some files of new paper clippings and did not like what I saw." Sitting backwards in his chair he started to hand me new paper articles and translated their titles one by one in English, "Party of 3 perish on Mont Blanc, 2 go missing in Alps; Search crew called off, Resort opening day ends in tragedy, and then there is this one that caught my eye…"

"Oh god…"

"This one is about a skiing party who survived an accident at the Resort but their friends reported they went insane and returned to the same location several weeks later where they were found dead. All of these stories I found at the library archives in Paris… and they all revolve around that spot."

Some of the clips had photographs of bodies in the snow covered with tarps or in body bags. That could have been Canada and me. He handed me one last thing, a worn out paperback with a book mark in it, "Here…. Here's the book that Britain was reading… I suggest you take a look."

South Vietnam lightly moaned a little as she stretched and looked at me tired but curious, "…What is that about?"

Still a bit tired I flipped through the pages and found bits of Britain's hand writing inside as well as several doodles of strange symbols. The bookmark was an old raven's feather and it opened up to a chapter called "the Return to Dead City". I read over the chapter quickly to get the basic idea of it, "…One hundred years ago a man from Chamonix-Mont-Blanc known only as Louis Charnier started a religious cult known as the Pre-Ghosts. He preached that our true form of existence was without our physical form, a spirit or ghost, and we were angering God by allowing ourselves to live long lives. Believing he was sent by God to inform humanity of their grave mistake the number of followers increased rapidly and he was proclaimed their great leader and messiah. He reportedly assisted hundreds in committing suicide. As their numbers increased a massive homestead was said to be built 5 hours north-east of Chamonix called Ville Morte, or Dead City, where the Pre-Ghosts lived in their own commune. Dressed all in white to symbolize spirits, their last known activity was a mass protest along Des Moentieux Route where 45 people committed mass suicide to support their cause. The book says the location of their commune of Ville Morte was never found. However since then many reports of spiritual activity have been noted in the area where Ville Morte was said to be. Many skiers went missing and presumed dead; however this very commonly resulted in an unusual phenomenon where the survivors would feel compelled to return to Ville Morte nearly going insane in the process."

"That book was published a year before the Resort was built in the same general location." France spoke up again leaning back in his chair and calmly looking out the window to view the sands of the Middle East below us.

"Ville Mort! That's it, that's the word I was looking for last night." She exclaimed and took the book from me, more curious than ever.

"Wait a minute, _that's_ what you were looking up?!"

"Yeah, it's written all over the house and you keep saying it in your sleep. I wake up hearing you talk in your dreams…."

"You see? The brochure should have said the place was haunted, every place should have a warning label on the front of it that says "May cause insanity and/or death" That way situations like this would never happen again." I crossed my arms and spoke in protest still angry about the whole situation.

"More and more people are getting sucked into this and Britain is now missing… If anyone can put an end to this madness it's us. That's why it has to be a secret and nobody else can know about it. I just wish we could get there faster. If the Queen finds out about this there is no way I'll ever be forgiven again…." France sighed hiding his worry.

"What does it mean?" She asked flipping the pages.

I took the book away from South Vietnam and shoved it into my bag, "You are really good at trying to scare me. I bet this is all a rouse to get me to go back to the resort and throw that party that I never got to go to." I closed my eyes more tired than I thought and wanted to try to catch some sleep before we landed. You know, try to relax like I promised her I would. Maybe ignoring France would work for awhile. I didn't know just how tired I really was until I closed my eyes. Suddenly my body felt heavy and everything around me became a silent darkness with every noise tuned out. A truly beautiful feeling until I felt snowflakes float into my face. A cold wind rushed past me, cold enough to freeze skin. Suddenly I found myself in the middle of the forest except the trees were all twisted and dead. My skin was a pale blue and I could barely move. I looked down starting to breathe heavier and found my brother Canada lying in the snow except he turned into skeleton that was wearing his coat, bloody muscle and skin hanging from the pearl white bones. "Oh god!" I screamed trying to back up but I still couldn't move, "We didn't make it out, did we? This is really the end isn't it?!"

Soft voices echoed from the distance and slowly got louder and louder all around me, enclosing me in a trap, "Renvoyez… renvoyez… renvoyez…" ("Return… return… return…")They quietly chanted and wouldn't stop.

"Go away!" I screamed terrified out of my mind by this point. Nothing I did would make me move.

"Renvoyez…." As the voices got louder many figures dressed in white slowly emerged from the woods, all with blacked out faces, "Renvoyez…"

"I don't want to die out here! You hear me!"

"Renvoyez!"

Now only a few feet away from me Britain's cold hand grabbed my shoulder from behind me and yelled back at me with a voice that sounded like it was under water, "Return to die!"

"Wake up!" I was shaken hard and jolted awake again to find South Vietnam facing me concerned, "It's ok now! Breathe…"

I just sat there taking deep breaths and looked back at her wide eyed, a part of me was completely embarrassed having the feeling she heard everything that I said, "What the fuck was that?!" I cried out and slapped at my shoulders still feeling that cold hand grabbing me, "Oh god!"

She hugged me tight, "You're back on the jet, that wasn't real."

I calmed down a little and looked to France glad to be awake again when I suddenly noticed frost in his hair, "You dreamt of them didn't you?"

"….No… it was something else. Don't worry about it." Suddenly deeply embarrassed I looked away from them and scratched the back of my head, "How long was I asleep?"

"….Around 5 hours." She replied instead.

"What? I only closed my eyes for a few minutes."

"No, you were out cold for awhile… Are you sure you are okay?"

"Ha!" I faked a laugh to try to change the subject, "It'll take more than that to take me down!"


	8. Chapter 37

Chapter 37.

I was slowly getting impatient. How long was this going to take? I hated being cooped up in a small place and I hated long trips. With a low grumble I took my silver dollar out of my pocket and started flipping it into the air a few times deep in my thoughts. Why the hell would Britain go back? It didn't make any sense…. unless he was as haunted as I was and couldn't take it anymore. As I caught the coin one more time I saw pearl white peaks of the Alps come closer and closer to us, "Hey! We're almost there! It's about time; we've been sitting here way to long…"

"I agree…" France muttered returning the files to his bag, acting more calm than normal.

South Vietnam leaned closer to me to take a look. I don't think she ever saw the French Alps before, "It's so beautiful! I can't wait to see what this place looks like."

Just as the jet started to make its descent I wasn't looking forward to telling her the truth, "See… France and I are heading to the resort… You're going to Washington remember?"

"…. What? W-Washington? No no! I'm not sitting down while you risk your life again!"

"I'm sorry but I'm not going to argue about this. I'm not letting you join us and that's that."

The jet began to land in a massive open parking lot in Chamonix where several other small aircrafts were, one of them must have been our helicopter transfer.

"I sat by your beside for 3 days waiting for you to wake up and you almost left me and you were so cold! I won't do that again, I'm coming with you! You're confused and don't know what you're talking about." She called back getting very upset but before she could get up I quickly grabbed some handcuffs I secretly packed and cuffed her to the chair.

"You don't have much of a choice here. You don't know what happened out there, and if everyone who was there is effected that means you could be at risk and frankly I'm not allowing that to happen. Go to Washington, relax and I'll meet you there in a day or two." I quickly kissed her but she gave me a horrible death glare.

France opened the doors and left the jet still keeping silent. As the warm air escaped the cold evening air blew in and my glasses fogged up.

Now thoroughly pissed off she started screaming at me in Vietnamese took a deep breath then continued, "… If you don't uncuff me right now I'll haunt you until the day you die…."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take. It's not just you that'll be at risk, Kitten… I love you." I tossed the key and a wad of bills to the pilot with a smiling nod, "Make sure she makes it to Washington, Cojack."

"Yes, sir." The young pilot nodded to me and checked the gas levels.

I got out of the jet and was about to close the door seeing her livid and yanking at the handcuff, "You got lucky last time! You'll die, please! I want to help, don't leave me!"She continued to beg but I closed the door and backed up as the jet prepared for takeoff.

"You know you're going to get it later, right?" France added in as he quickly did something to the outside of the helicopter followed by a strange leaking sound.

"Oh yeah, I am so getting my ass kicked for this." With a heavy sigh I turned around to join him, "Alright let's do this. Britain needs our help!" We both climbed in as I jumped into the pilots seat and started to warm up the engine. France sat in the passenger seat and held on to the side bar, "Let's…. just make it quick, alright?"

"It will be quick and painless…." He replied after a moment as it lifted off of the ground and started to head towards the resort once again.

I couldn't help but feel nervous. Sure I was a trained pilot and I could fly helicopters blindfolded but it wasn't the flight itself. The closer I got to the resort the faster my heart rate went up. I felt a lot better knowing South Vietnam was getting as far away from this place as possible, even if she'd be angry at me for it. I saw how this place messed up my brother, France, and Britain. I won't have it happen to her or Peanut. The thing that didn't ease my nerves was the familiarity. After awhile I started to recognize some of the area as we flew over the mountain woods.

The communicator suddenly went off, France immediately went to shut it off but I grabbed it before he had the chance. "This is the Sierra Alpha 315 Bravo Lama, who is on this channel?"

"_America is that you?!"_

"….That's affirmative, Delta Sierra." I was confused hearing the quiet voice through the shaky connection and held the headphones to my ear to hear him over the noise of the engine.

"_Thank god! It's Canada, I've been trying to track you down for hours now! I thought you were in Saigon what is this I hear about you stealing a helicopter from Chamonix? That wasn't you was it?"_

"Pull the throttle back will ya? I have this whole mess taken care of, no problem! France asked me to help find Britain who went missing near the resort, I agreed, and we're flying out right now. We should be there in just a few minutes."

There was an unsettling silence after I said that. I continued to fly as I waited for his response, what the heck was upsetting him so much?

"_That's impossible, France is right here with me…"_

"….What?"

"_I met him at the resort 3 hours ago and we were JUST trying to call you about that, but McNamara said you were going back to Washington. Then we hear the helicopter we booked went missing. A witness said you took it… "_

"What do you mean France is with you!?" I yelled back then dropped the headset in terror when I noticed the seat beside me was empty. The doors were still locked and we were still in mid flight.

"_He's been here since early this morning. Your story doesn't make any sense. How can you possibly know about Britain? Scotland told France about that yesterday night and I happened to be in Paris at the time, nobody else knows about it but me!"_

Closing my eyes in terror I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was going crazy wasn't I? "Who brought me here?! "What the hell is going on!?"

"_America? What's wrong, come in!"_

I was jolted forward when the chopper suddenly collided with the tips of some of the trees below and cut off the transmission. I tried to regain control and managed to pull back up before I slammed into the trees. One of the alerts on the dashboard went off while I tried unsuccessfully to increase elevation. I was extremely low on gas.

Desperate for answers I continued in a straight line trying to think and pull myself together,

"Okay…. Okay…. You're out of fuel and back in the French Alps. You're not crazy; there was totally somebody there a minute ago. Oh god, what the hell am I doing here anyways?! I promised myself I'd never come back here again…. That's what South Vietnam meant when she said I was confused…. France was never there! She didn't see what I saw; to her I was acting like a crazy person. What the f…." I gasped keeping on course not really knowing what else to do at his point. That's when something hit me like a ton of bricks, a horrible thought that I didn't consider at first. "Oh my god… Britain really is missing!"


	9. Chapter 38

Chapter 38.

In was in late December but then I couldn't remember what day it was.

I was in such a fog that I could barely think. Before this the last thing I could remember was falling to my knees and giving up out there in the snow. I threw my coat away and gave up. I thought my brother has died and that tiny spark of hope in my heart died with him.

In the mist of my haze I suddenly felt a warm light that I wasn't expecting. Happiness… now?

I was pulled into a dream. When I opened my eyes I found myself standing at my horse ranch in Arizona. The hot sun left everything to a soft orange tone that I didn't want to leave. I didn't care if I was dead or not, I was too happy here. All of my troubles melted away for a moment. I looked to my left and saw my favorite racing horse, a white mare named Star Burst, waiting in the fields for me.

"Star Burst? I missed you girl!" I cheered and ran over to her thrilled more than anything. She was a tough one to handle but I trained her well. She was the fastest horse I ever raised, "What are you doing here?"

This couldn't be heaven, if it was John Fino and my other old friends would be there. Instead Star Burst calmly nuzzled against me telling me this really wasn't real. Frankly she was always stand-offish at first.

Did I die? Suddenly a trembling noise thundered from the distance, a heard of wild horses were stampeding this way lead out front by a native girl on a black Mustang. They roared past me like I wasn't there and I caught a glimpse of the Woman of Many Names who lived here before me.

"Mom?!" She must have been why I was here. I instantly jumped on Star Burst and went after her. Just like in a beautiful dream from the past I tore through the Arizona plains on my favorite horse chasing after her. I started to catch up to the wild horses just as they jumped over an old rotting fence. Star Burst jumped it without a seconds thought, cheering loudly as she did so, and kicked up dirt as she landed. There next to several giant cacti stood the woman I only saw in drawings, the wild horses were gone.

"Whoa…." I pulled back and came to a stop confused, "You're…." I muttered unsure what to say at first.

"America? Is that your name?" Her voice was calm but powerful, a serene face that was erringly familiar and was taller than I thought she would be.

"The United States of America…" I replied climbing off of my horse, "You speak English?"

With a silent nod she never took her eyes off of me, eyes that sparkled in the summer sun but never showing me hints of what she was thinking, "You look just like him but taller."

"Like who?"

"You cannot stay here. Your family needs you." Her dark hair caught in the hot breeze as she continued to stare me down determined.

"Not anymore, my brother is my only family and he's gone now. I messed up with South Vietnam…."

"Your family is bigger than you think. She needs you, peanut needs you, but no matter what happens to you or Canada do not return to Dead City. Don't do it."

My eyes widened in terror, "I tried to leave, I tried so hard but no matter what I did…."

"No matter what happens you cannot go back to Dead City. Promise me."

The ghost city, the houses we found in the alps full of frozen mummies, the image that still plagues me. I could almost feel my skin grow colder right there. I could swear there was something running down my throat that tasted like plastic, "No don't send me back! I have so much to ask you! Don't make me face the sadness again, I can't take it!" My heart started to race again. Before I knew it Star Burst faded away before I could say good bye and my mother cracked a tiny smile as she did the same.

I jolted heavily and took a deep breath in shock.

Closing my eyes in pain I tried to clench the side of the table I was on but I couldn't feel it anywhere. Voices called out everywhere at each other and none of them answered my questions. I wasn't even sure if I was saying anything at all. What happened?

I just had that numb tingly feeling all over. My hands were heavily bandaged up and it hurt to breathe a little. It was a weird feeling but it was like my heart was sore.

When I slowly opened my eyes I barely made out some fresh pink roses that were sitting on the bedside table, just like the ones I liked to give South Vietnam. I could swear she was just there, I could smell her perfume. Slowly I became more alert and could see around the room more, "How'd I get here? Oh god the avalanche… that haunted path…" I gasped and tried to sit up.

The moment I remembered I didn't want to be there anymore. I could vaguely remember a phone call with my boss but I don't remember anything I said, and South Vietnam's gentle kiss. Oh god was what she said real too?

I was still connected to several tubes that I had no idea what they did. Deeply confused I looked at my hands wondering why I was having so much trouble trying to sit up. My fingers were red and shiny with several large blisters on the knuckles. The nails were a faint bluish purple but there wasn't any black or dead tissue. "Oh god…."

It felt like someone held me down I turned my head to follow a voice in the distance. I didn't recognize anyone but a quick flash struck terror in my heart that was enough to make my screams shatter windows if I could speak. A blur of a man went by, a man in a white robe and frost in his hair. It was the same one that haunted me in the forest, the one that plagued me and tried to get me to give up, a ghost from Dead City.

"…for tests to make sure everything is alright."

I suddenly heard voices in the hallway talking and when I looked over to the door I saw something that made my heart sink. The bed next to mine was empty, but Canada's coat was left limp over the bed,. Now instantly terrified I swear something in the back of my mind snapped.

"…What?"

"Mon dieu…." France gasped from the hallway, barely seen on the other side of the slightly ajar door.

"Shit… listen, this does not leave the three of us, understand? If America heard about this he would lose his mind. It's best if he doesn't know anything about what happened to his brother until he's better again. Do not tell him… It's best to leave him in happy ignorance."

"Of course"

"No…. No it can't be…." They were right; he did die in my arms. Blood boiling with rage and with a heart breaking from the pain everything got fuzzy and blurred. I remember getting up and disconnecting everything screaming in fury. How dare they take him and let me live.

A calm voice spoke to me trying to help. I could barely make out his face but I wasn't in the mood for help, especially from murderers. "I'd get back in bed if I were you, please…"

"You shut up!" He screamed pointing right at him, "This is all your fault! He was fine when I saw him… now what happened?"

"That was beyond our control… We did the best we could; now please if you don't get back in bed you could have a heart attack."

I just lost it and wanted to destroy whoever let him die. The next thing I remembered was Britain squeezing the life out of my wrists, "Knock it off idiot! I know and you know that if you wanted to you could flatten everyone on this floor, so calm down. Your brother isn't dead… do you hear me? He's not dead; he's sleeping in the next room." I didn't believe him at first but usually when he yelled with that much emotion there was some truth to back it up.

Before I knew it there were people everywhere who nearly dragged me back to bed. For some reason the doctor seemed afraid of me and was acting like a scared animal, like I threw him across the room or something. But in all honesty I was the one acting like the scared animal. I didn't have a single clue what was going on, what was real, or what anyone was talking about. I just panicked. The one comfort that I had in life was that my brother was always there, even if I didn't know where exactly he was at the moment, he was always there somewhere. He was the only one who really understood me, even if we though more than once. He was also the only one I could trust with my darkest secrets. I guess I never could handle death very well, especially when it's so close to home. It's the unknown… something that's so permanent and something I can't control, the thing that terrifies me.


	10. Chapter 39

Chapter 39.

I would be truly happy if this turned out to be a really long nightmare. What I really wanted to do this morning was wake up nice and early so I could go for a jog. Maybe have a hot bath afterwards with a peach for breakfast. You know, the personal time I wanted but instead I decided to have a nice freak out and go insane in the middle of the French Alps again because I didn't learn the first time.

Here I stand in the middle of that forest that I have been dreaming about every night since I almost froze to death. The very same one with the trees that looked like they were half dead, the frozen river that you could still hear the rushing waves flowing past you, and the crunchy snow that was never less than half a foot thick. Half an hour ago my helicopter made a crash landing not too far away and wouldn't start back up. It was out of gas which was a total shock to me; the tank was full when I got in it. That's when I remember hearing that strange trickling sound before it took off, "Oh my god they cut the gas line… ok that's it!" I started to yell to the nothingness around me now ticked off, "There is no way I dreamt this up. Somebody brought me here! Somebody lured me back here and cut the gas line so I'd be lost again. But this time you made a grave mistake! This time I came prepared!" I pulled out my compass out of the bag I brought, "You have no idea who you're messing with here…"

I didn't hear a response, which was weird. Just around the corner was always a taunt, someone calling me, or a shadow in the distance of a figure in white doing nothing but staring at me. This time it was just empty wind. "I'm…. I'm not crazy." I said out loud again, more so trying to convince myself than anything. "France was there I know it but… that wasn't him and if that wasn't him then..." I reached into my other pocket and pulled out Britain's book, "Who gave me this?"

I found myself following the river just like I used to, except this time I was alone… well I was pretty sure I was alone. I swear I heard someone following me in the distance but if my memory was clear it was best if I didn't look.

My helicopter crashed not too far from Ville Morte, I could tell because the area was very familiar. As I walked I looked down and studied the compass trying to find north when I tripped over something and fell to the snow before me. "What the? No it couldn't be…" I sat forward and started digging it out I almost felt my heart stop and this whole thing started to feel very real again. It was a wooden cross, the same homemade wooden cross that I remembered from months earlier. This was the spot my brother and I gave up, the spot we said our goodbyes and laid down to die. I tightly clenched the cross and read the name 'Francis Bonnefoy' that was written on it in a blind fury, "Bastards!" I screamed and with everything I had I threw it as far away from my sight as I could. "You're not going to get to me this time… there is no way. You're manipulative bastards and you want me to cave, but I'll tell you this right now… My name is America! I modeled myself after Rome and I can destroy you single handedly. You picked the wrong guy."

"Rome collapsed in disgrace…" A sudden voice called to me from the distance, that horrible voice that followed me in my dreams.

"Don't twist my words!"

Someone tapped my shoulder from behind me but I didn't notice, "….America?"

"Renvoyez …. retourner dans la forêt" ("Return… return to the forest")

"You shut up!" I yelled back looking around trying to find the source.

"…America?"

"Renvoyez… joignez la Grande-Bretagne." ("Return… join Britain")

I paused in a panic, "Go away!"

"Return to die!"

Finally feeling the hand on my shoulder I grabbed my gun, spun around fast, and aimed it right at their forehead with a furious sneer, "Get away from me!" Standing before me was Canada, wide eyed, arms in the air, and shivering in fear. It took me a second to click in that the voice was gone and he was the only one there, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"…I followed your transmission… I was worried about you. Um… do you mind lowering your gun now?" He muttered eyeing the Glock 45 that was pressed against his forehead.

After a moment I lowered it and took a deep breath, "You love sneaking up on me don't you?" I got a closer look at him when I calmed down a little. I haven't seen much of him since the last world meeting. He didn't look too hot then either. The fracture on the right side of his forehead looked better than it used to but there was fresh stitches there and a few bandages over some spots. That and he still had a crutch under one arm, "You are nowhere near well enough to be here… what the hell are you doing?"

Sighing silently he brushed his bangs over the wound, "I'm fine… We need all the help we can get. What happened?"

My eyes darted to my left and I saw France there staring at me. The chaos still fresh on my mind I screamed like bloody murder and fell backwards in the snow trying to get away from him, "Get away from me!"

"Whoa, it's France! Calm down!"

"That's what the last guy said and he turned out to be dead! What's your real name?!" I was on my last nerves and returned to aiming my gun at them.

"…Francis Bonnefoy…"

"When do you celebrate your birthday?"

"July 14th, come now you know it's me."

"Blood type!"

"Type A"

"What are you allergic too?" I continued to ask calming down a little.

"Bee stings! Look, talk to me what happened?"

"…You came to South Vietnam's door at 5am and told me you needed me to return to Dead City. You told me that Britain returned here a few days ago and hasn't been heard from since. So I agreed to come back to help find him… you said I remembered the most out of everyone and that the others who have come here are all being affected." I got back up still keeping my eye on them, "So we took a 13 hr flight in a Learjet 23 from Saigon, landed in Chamonix, and transferred here by helicopter... that's when he called me and said you were with him the whole time… then the passenger seat was empty… I don't know who brought me here… or if I really am going crazy or if I've been haunted for the past few weeks! Now I'm out here in the snow, it's 7 at night and it's bound to get dark soon and we're back near Dead City! Why would I be calm?!"

"Wait when did you leave Saigon?" My brother spoke up very quietly confused.

"…6 in the morning."

"But if you left Saigon at 6am for a 13 hr flight it would be 7pm but going to Europe means you'd go through 6 time zones and 7 minus 6 equals 1 so it's actually 1 in the afternoon."

I pointed at Canada on edge of my sanity, "Shut up about the time zones!"

"Look I do not know what happened but Scotland told me about this last night. It was too dark to go looking for him then so I called around. I did not say anything to anyone but Canada. He was already in Paris and came here on his own to help… I do not know what happened to you but I was here the whole time and it is impossible for you to know about this when nobody else did at the time." France spoke up shaking his head, "But we are here now and there is no point trying to figure it out now. Someone is in trouble and we need to help, even if it is Britain."

Rubbing my eyes I groaned a little and decided it was best to let it go for now, "You're right… we need to focus… wait, who else did you call?"

"Germany, Italy, Japan, and Dr. Bordeaux were all outside of Dead City when you were found and transferred to Paris. Germany and Italy both admitted to nightmares and apparently Italy has been so terrified lately he hasn't left Germany's house. Japan denied it but I could tell something was up by how exhausted he sounded. I couldn't get a hold of Dr. Bordeaux. They don't know he's missing though."

"I had an appointment with him in Paris but apparently he went on a sudden stress leave and nobody at the hospital has heard from him since." Canada replied with a sigh.

"I'm driving everybody nuts with my nightmares…. France are you losing it too?"

He said nothing and looked away not wanting to answer me, but his eyes said everything.

"I'm not." Canada spoke up quietly looking at us oddly, "I'm not haunted at all."

I just looked at him kind of shocked, "Nothing? No nightmares, no voices, you're not seeing anything?"

"No…. nothing. Everybody else seems to have lost their minds."

"How is that fair!? My life has been hell lately… Not even a flashback?" I put my gun away finally and looked away from them deeply wanting to break something, "The whole time I was out here there were either voices in the distance taunting me, people in the corner of my eye, or a combination of both. Are you telling me you didn't experience any of that?"

"No…. I don't remember anything, just tiny bits, nowhere _near _2 days worth."

Reconsidering the skull fracture that didn't surprise me, but why isn't he affected? France's hands were shaking and not from the cold. That and it looked like he hasn't slept in days. I didn't reply at first and was staring at something in the distance, something they couldn't see initially.

"…America?" France spoke up confused as I slowly walked away from them and towards a bit of fabric stuck in the snow not too far away.

I knew what it was when I was half way there. By the time it was laying at my feet nothing else seemed to matter anymore but finding Britain and getting the hell out of here, even if I had to burn the place down bit by bit.

"What is it?" Canada asked slowly following me.

"It's the flag from Fort Wizard." I replied quieter than usual. It was a piece of fabric, one I painted blue with a gold star in the middle. It was a part of my childhood… I haven't seen it in so long I thought it Britain threw it out. "Alright, you wanted me here… here I am!" I shoved the flag into my bag and started to yell at the forest around me as I walked towards something behind the trees, "You messed around with the wrong guy!" It was hard to admit I thought of Britain as family but… I truly did even if I haven't told him that in a long time. We may have had our share of arguments in the past but I can't forget the times when I looked up to him like a big brother.

Behind the trees was a sight that nobody was prepared for. It was Dead City… the old house that my brother and I slept in over night during one of the toughest storms on record for the area. It wasn't alone, behind it was 5 more houses exactly like it. Dead City wasn't the name of the house; it was the name of the whole area. It was literally a city.


	11. Chapter 40

Chapter 40.

I remember the first time I felt like I had a real family. I was a small kid at the time and Britain couldn't visit as often as I wanted him to. I was left alone in such a big land a few times and it scared me sometimes. As time went on I was introduced to my brother. Well then I thought he was just a new friend, but in my heart I guess I always knew we were brothers. I didn't want to admit it; I wanted a friend I could brag about, not a brother. Brothers aren't usually friends. Admittedly I also had a short attention span and didn't always notice when he was around. He was always a very quiet kid. A family wasn't something that countries got to experience every often, but when the moment came you tended to hang on to it.

One day I was alone again, but this time I was more upset about it. I remember barely being able to look out the front window of Britain's place waiting for him to return like he said he would. There was a major snow storm outside and he had to leave for a reason I couldn't remember. All I knew was he was supposed to have returned hours ago.

"You said you'd be here… you promised!" I huffed, "I'm hungry, Britain…." Not seeing anyone in sight I wandered into the hallway and kicked the ground disappointed. In the distance I heard someone quietly crying. Deeply confused I followed the sound into Britain's bedroom where Canada was sitting in the corner weeping by himself.

"Why are you crying?" I asked boldly as I approached him.

He sniffed and looked away embarrassed, "Nobody knows I'm here." He whimpered a little, "I'm hungry and Mr. Britain left without saying good bye…"

"I'm hungry too! But I know you're here now! You know what?"

"….What?" He looked at me hugging his bear and wiped his red eyes.

"We should get him! Build a fort and get him good!"

"A fort? ...But not hurt him, right?"

"Of course not, come on!" I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him over to the living room where I cracked an idea. Using some of the furniture around the house we built a miniature fort facing the main entrance.

Now smiling and enjoying himself Canada came up with the idea for a slingshot by using some cord we found. I put the finishing touches on the fort with a blue flag I made that had a star in the middle.

It was way more fun than we thought but before we could get the chance to test the silver wear as a good projectile someone came through the front door and was covered in snow.

"Shhhh…." Canada whispered to me as we crouched down behind the fort and waited. I couldn't help but giggle while we armed the sling silently and waited for him to get into the right spot. Canada was look out and I was armed with the sling. The man moved forward unaware of the giggling in the distance and I got ready to make our move, "Attack!" I called and launched a fork at him but it landed too soon and spun across the wooden floor to his feet.

Confused the man took his snowy coat off allowing us to see who it was and looked at the fork baffled for a moment. It was France and he brought a bag of supplies with him. The second Canada saw it was the wrong person he ducked behind the fort wall and went into a panic, "Abort! Abort! Wrong target!"

"Uh oh… scatter!" I called back but before we could run for it France approached us with a fond smile and just stared at us shaking his head,

"What are you doing to Britain's furniture?"

I looked up at him and grabbed another fork, "Your authority isn't recognized in Fort Wizard!"1

He chuckled warmly at that, strolled around to the back and kneeled down to our level, "A Fort, huh? It's a nice one I can tell. What are you two scheming?"

"….Shh, don't tell him!"

Canada looked away embarrassed to be caught, "I'm sorry. See Britain left in the morning and didn't come back when he said he would. We're both hungry and we wanted to get him when he got back."

"Aww, tattle tale!"

"You wanted to get him did you?" France sat on the floor with us and surprisingly wasn't angry. In fact he gave us some pointers to help get him. "First off the forks are too heavy to use with a sling. May I suggest something lighter?"

"…Like paper balls?" I asked looking at the pile of silver wear we found in the kitchen.

France dug into his bag and pulled out a handful of shelled peanuts, "I was thinking peanuts."

"Peanuts? That's silly…"

"Obviously you have never heard of biological warfare."

Canada crept closer and took one of them to chew on, "They have a hard shell."

"The hard shell is the other benefit, plus we'll work on target practice…"

Canada made a second sling and France helped us with our aim. We could get him real good this time. After a few minutes France spoke up again eyeing the door paranoid, "I am afraid it is time for me to leave now." He sighed and got up, leaving the bag behind. "While I was in the neighborhood visiting your Uncle Scotland I came to make sure you have enough supplies because of the storm."

"Please don't go…" Canada sighed sadly but France rubbed his hair with a smile.

"Britain is still pretty angry at me so I should not be here when he gets home. Don't tell him what I brought."

France had to leave us alone again, which was sad to have such a short visit but he did leave some yummy treats behind. It wasn't the first time he came to visit us as kids but his visits were still rare. I didn't understand when I was that young but it was mainly political.

After awhile Britain came home, covered in snow as well, and in a panic.

"Target at 2 o'clock." Canada whispered munching on another peanut, "Coming into launching zone…"

"Got it…" I whispered back and armed myself with more peanuts.

"America? Canada? I'm back now… the storm is horrible! There was trouble at the palace and…" Before he could finish his sentence it was go time.

"Weapons go!"

"Attack!" I cried out and Britain was flooded with a flurry of peanuts.

"Hey! What the bloody…" He called out in surprised and blocked his face from the flying shells, "Hey! Knock it off you little buggers!"

I waited to be handed another peanut but came up empty, "We're out ammo!" Canada whispered to me nervously but before we could find an alternative Britain was standing next to the fort looking down at us with a confusing gaze. We couldn't tell if he was angry or not.

"…Scatter!" I blurted and got up to run.

"You're not going anywhere, America, sit down. Did you build this?" Britain spoke up eyeing the fort and the flag I made.

"…Fort Wizard! No wind or snow will crush Fort Wizard!" Canada cheered smiling and having too much fun to be scared of our punishment.

"How did you know I was allergic to peanuts?" He continued looking down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"….Uh…. just a guess? Don't punish us, sir! We had so much fun and…"

"I'm not going to punish you." We were both surprised at that and looked upwards at him. "It's a very well built fort and you carried out the plan perfectly." With that he picked a peanut out of his pocket with a faint smile, "Just pick up the peanuts and don't leave one behind. If I eat those I get very ill."

"Yes sir!"

"It's about time for tea isn't it?" He said to himself and studied the peanut in his hand as he walked to the kitchen, "You two will be the death of me… now how did these get in here?"

From the living room there was a storm of giggling, "No wind or snow will crush Fort Wizard!" We chanted and started to go through the secret bag France left us.

"Should we get him at tea time?" Canada asked curiously smiling.

"….Yeah, France packed some chewy caramels."

1 Wizard: A British Colonial Military term meaning 'Excellent', as in "A wizard time."


End file.
